The Trail in the woods with a Spork
by S.Capriati
Summary: Lost in the woods, bickering, rain, and a one-man tent.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Trail in the Woods with a Spork

Rating: M

Summary: Lost in the woods, bickering, rain, and a one-man tent.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones outside the bounds of my imaginary universe.

* * *

"We are lost!" Brennan shrieked after they passed through another clearing.

"We are not lost, we are just…turned around a bit." Booth struggled to find something familiar, or perhaps a hint of instinctive direction.

"We were supposed to be at the campsite 4 hours ago, I told you we should have brought my GPS!" Brennan stomped on leaving Booth to quicken his pace in order to keep up with her.

"Well I'm sorry, but you looked at the directions yourself, it was supposed to be a simple marked trail. I have no idea where we went wrong." Booth gesticulated frantically clearly frustrated.

"It is almost sundown, and unless miracles exist, which they don't, we are stuck here for the night without a campsite."

"Can't you do your sciencey thing and look at the sky and tell us which way is out?" Booth asked annoyed, not liking the idea of roughing it.

"The light is almost gone, we would only be able to use its direction for about 20 minutes. If you would have conceded to the fact that we were lost at an earlier time, then maybe I could have been helpful." She stopped in her tracks, placing her hands on her hips.

"Well can't you use the stars? Isn't it the same thing as the sun? Are you holding out on me Bones?" He waggled his eyebrows at Brennan suggestively, who was not at all amused.

"Do you see that storm front that's coming in over there?" She pointed at the huge dark clouds rolling in on the horizon. "It will be directly over us before it is dark enough to see the stars. You're better off asking your friend for help." She turned and started kicking stones and sticks around with her boots.

"Which friend? You know that neither of us has cell service here."—He stopped abruptly when he saw the smirk appear on her face. She raised a pointed finger towards the sky to clarify.

"Uggh, you know what, I will ask him for help! I will ask him to send a really big bear with a taste for 'bones' so that I can have some peace and quite with Mother Nature."

"Do you believe in her too? I think that's against your religion." She continued clearing the area with the toes of her boots, but the corners of her mouth gave away her lightheartedness. Booth sighed, disgruntled.

"Do not tell me you are clearing the area for us to sleep here." He was not at all happy with the idea.

"Booth we don't have a choice. It's safer to just continue in the morning when there is light again. We should use the light we have left to set up the tent." She made too much sense to argue with, Booth decided, so he kept quiet.

After unpacking the gear, the situation only become more infuriating for the both of them. They found a one-person tent, one sleeping bag, limited food and a lantern without batteries.

"Bones, you were in charge of the tent, how could you bring that?! It's like a tent for a midget baby." He looked over the diagram on the tent's tiny packaging sleeve. It didn't look big enough for one person, let alone two.

"It's a one person tent, I have only ever used a tent by myself, well mostly…actually two people can definitely fit in there especially if they are—"

"BONES! I get it, we'll squeeze, feet to head, or something…" He looked nervously between Brennan and the midget tent.

"Where's the other sleeping bag, wasn't that on your list?" Brennan asked as she unrolled the lone sleeping bag, holding it up to gauge the size.

"Well okay, I said I had two sleeping bags, but one was Parker's and clearly neither of us was going to fit into it, and we were not even supposed to be camping! We were supposed to hike up here undercover, locate the suspect at the campsite and vamoose! There was no actual camping scheduled." He became exasperated once again with the situation.

"Okay, fine. We'll just unzip the sleeping bag and lay it flat on the floor of the tent. That way we can dispel some of the heat that would be transferred into the cold ground, and it will be more comfortable anyways. And actually the size of the tent should help insulate the body heat we generate."

"Whatever Bones, why don't you set up your Polly Pocket dream home while I go do what boys do best and build a fire."

"I don't know what that means."

"Of course you don't." Booth called back as he disappeared into the foliage in search of wood for the fire.

Booth slowly collected the driest sticks he could find. Part of him acknowledged that the idea of staying the night in the woods with his stubborn yet lovably naïve partner appealed to him on some unknown level. Another part of him also admitted that the short temper and lack of patience he had been exhibiting were probably ways for him to dispel all the tension between him and Bones. Without his feigned annoyance, who knew where all their titillating discourse would take them?

* * *

AN: So this is my first story, any criticism is welcome! xoxo, S.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Trail in the Woods with a Spork

Rating: M

Summary: Lost in the woods, bickering, rain, and a one-man tent.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones outside the bounds of my imaginary universe.

* * *

...Finally, satisfied that he had scavenged enough supplies for a moderate sized fire, Booth returned to their "campsite."

"Wow Bones, that was pretty quick." Booth surveyed the assembled tent, which seemed no bigger than it had been in its little nylon pouch. He laughed nervously for no reason.

"It's a pop-up tent. Simple manipulations of the flexible—"

"Booones, I know what a pop-up tent is." He placed his thumb and index finger along the upper bridge of his nose. He was tired and probably somewhat dehydrated which probably contributed to his headache.

He knelt down and began to dig a shallow hole in which to set up his fire. Brennan meanwhile busied herself with organizing their food and water. She continued her usual internal observations of her surroundings. She found it humorous that they, while very much evolved city people, fell immediately into the routine of the hunter-gatherer.

By the time Brennan looked back over at her partner, he was already nursing an adolescent flame.

"Booth, you got the fire started already? That's amazing. How did you do it?" She came closer. Twilight had set in and she looked forward to some warmth.

Booth looked back at her as she approached, with the trademark twinkle in his eye. He stretched out his palm, revealing his small silver encased lighter.

"Hah!" She exclaimed. "You're such a cheater, weren't you ever a boy scout?" She nudged him playfully on the shoulder.

"Yes I was." He answered smugly. "And I learned to always carry a lighter." The boyish twinkle was back in his eyes. He pulled on Brennan's wrist until she sat down next to him.

The fire slowly grew in front of them and they both sighed as the heat penetrated their clothes. They hadn't realized how much the temperature in the air around them had dropped until now.

Booth eventually retrieved some of the snacks for them to share.

"Booth can I have some of that beef jerky?" He pulled the bag away as she reached for it.

"I thought you said you were going vegetarian?" He continued feeding himself pieces out of the bag.

"I said that I was thinking about it since it is better for the environment. I haven't made any decisions yet." She reached for the bag again, and Booth continued to evade her reach.

"Bones, this is premium beef jerky that I picked out my self from my corner deli. If you are a very good girl then maybe I will share with you." He gazed at her playfully.

"You know, early male hominids often times used meat they had hunted in order to gain sexual access to females." This wiped the grin off Booth's face.

"Boneeess." He muttered as he returned a piece of beef jerky back to its bag, sealing the zip-top. "Why do you always have to do that?" He fidgeted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.

"What?! What did I do?" She was completely oblivious.

"We were having some good conversation, a little witty banter and you have to turn our innocent little pow-wow into something sexual." He placed the beef jerky next to him on the side furthest from her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What are you talking about? I was just stating a historical fact. How did I sexualize the situation?" She looked at him in disbelief.

"Look Bones, I know you're a little weak when it comes to social situations, so let me just try and make things easier to understand. We are a man and women, attractive—"

"And intelligent." Brennan interjected.

"Okay, we are both attractive and intelligent members of the opposite sex. We are stranded alone under the stars—"

"We can't see the stars because of the—" Booth stopped her before she could finish verbalizing her comment.

"We are all by ourselves under the stars—which may or may not be visible at the moment—sitting side by side in front of a cozy fire that I built with my own strong, big hands—"

"You used—" Booth placed his index finger on her lips to silence her. The softness of her lips and his impulsive reaction to her interruption shocked him into pulling his finger away just enough so that it was hovering in front of her lips instead of touching them. The shocked expression remained on her face, but she stayed silent allowing him to continue.

"As I was saying, I built this fire, with my own two hands—with the minor assistance of an incendiary device—and here we are nice and warm, shoulder to shoulder joking around and feeding each other, well sharing food I mean. And at the end of the night when we get tired we are going to get into that." He placed a deep emphasis on _that_ as he pointed towards the itty-bitty tent they would be sharing. "So as you can see the scene has been set and you saying the 'S' word, just makes things harder." He paused for a moment. "Or let's use the word difficult instead."

"I cannot believe you just called it 'the S word,'" Brennan smirked at him.

Before Booth could respond rain began to fall. Brennan jumped up and grabbed all of their food, hurrying to the tent as the tempo of the rain started increase.

"Booth we need to get into the tent, if we get too wet, it will be hard to maintain our body temperature." She ducked into the tent and Booth followed behind her.

"Jesus!" Booth struggled to fold himself into a shape that would be tolerated by the confining walls.

"Booth, this tent is meant for sleeping not dancing." She was already stretched out on the open sleeping bag, but she pressed herself against the tent wall to avoid his flailing limbs.

Booth finally settled on his side, which was the only way they both fit in the tent. The rain created a mild pitter-patter of background noise. The rhythmic sound finally alerted both partners to their exhaustion. Brennan yawned and Booth followed with his own yawn wondering to himself if Bones could explain why yawns were so contagious.

"Good night Booth." Brennan sighed.

"Good night Bones." Booth rolled over to face the tent wall, just to be safe.

The pitter-patter of rain slowly lulled them to sleep in the closer quarters...

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading! :) xoxo, S.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Trail in the Woods with a Spork

Rating: M

Summary: Lost in the woods, bickering, rain, and a one-man tent.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones outside the bounds of my imaginary universe.

* * *

...Booth and Bones had fallen into a deep slumber, modestly pressed into the opposing tent walls as best they could under the confining circumstances. The rain continued its tirade on the mountainside, sounding just like the rainforest setting on a sleep machine and having a similar effect on their circadian rhythms. The bitter cold air was the only source of real discomfort to the sleeping pair and as the night went on it only grew colder.

Booth felt himself suddenly ease into consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes, allowing the sleep to roll off the tips of his thick eyelashes. All he could make out was the translucent sheen of the tent wall in front of him. He cocked his ear straining to hear anything beyond the drum of the rain. Nothing unusual could be heard and he thought to himself that perhaps a clap of thunder or the crash of an old tree branch giving out had disturbed him.

He sensed Bones close behind him, he could feel the side of her head resting lightly against the curve of his back. She had migrated over the few inches that had separated them at the start of the night. Booth contemplated looking over at her, his curiosity suddenly peaked as to what she looked like asleep. The only thing that kept him from rolling over and seeing what all that stubbornness and feistiness looked like subdued, was the possibility of disturbing her. Instead, he relaxed into the tent floor, resolute on falling back to sleep.

A tickling on his abdomen suddenly jolted Booth as he arched his back trying to escape the surprise sensation. That's when he realized what—or more correctly who—had likely disturbed his sleep.

"Get OUTTA there Bones!" He said as he pulled her fingertips out from under the band of his boxers. Not only had she rolled herself towards him, she had also looped one slender arm over his waist allowing her hand to dip dangerously low on his hips. His cheeks grew warm and he was reminded once again, how Bones was able to make him blush like no one else had since junior high. At the moment he _felt_ like he was still in junior high.

"Hmm-mm?" Bones muttered, confusedly, her voice thick with sleep.

Booth sighed, grateful that she had simply been asleep and not trying to make a move on him while he slept. Although, now that the idea was in his head, Bones' proximity seemed ever more pressing. He gripped her mischievous hand tightly to his chest where it was safe; making sure that it didn't continue to stir up steamy thoughts in his head. There was little room in the tent to escape from those.

"Booooth, giii-ve meee my haaa-nd ba-ccck you're squeeeezing it ttto-to tight." Bones whined sleepily through chattering teeth.

"I will Bones," he paused as a low guttural chuckle escaped his lips, "if you promise that _it_ will behave." He patted her hand, still feeling bashfully disconcerted.

"I'm so-rrry but cleee-arly my boo-dddy is respon-ddding to the lo-oow tem-pper-atu-rrrre. I caaan't help it if I unnnn-consciou-ssssly graaa-vitate to-wwwards the only sou-rrrrce of heatt-tt." Every one of her words became slurred by the shivers convulsing through her body. Booth suppressed a smile, she sounded utterly childlike.

"In my _pants_?!" He chuckled again, nervously, as his voice broke on the only syllable in 'pants.'

"It wwaa-aass waa-arm tther-ree." She countered in her usual scientific tone. She sounded completely unashamed and unabashed.

"As a fedd-dderal aaa-gent are you-uuu going ttt-to barrr me from mmm-my pur-ssuit of hap-pppiness? Tha-ttt's a constt-tittt-ttutio-nnnal righ-ttt. Be-caus-sse I cannn ass-ssure you that-ttt there's nnn-no way I cc-can be hap-pppy while slee-ppping on ttt-the ground freeee-ezing my as-sss off. And as for-rrr my bo-dddy tem-pppera-ttture, thattt's a ppp-physio-lllogica-lll need. Would you lll-like to bar-rrr me from that-ttt as well?"

"Stop talking, you sound like Rainman, and I know, I _know_, you 'don't know what that means.'" He hadn't let go of her hand; instead he used it to gesticulate with, shaking it back and forth in time with the cadence of his voice.

She pressed closer trying to absorb more warmth off of him.

"Fine," he finally rolled over to face her, "if you want me to spoon you, I _will_."

"I did-ddd not say I wan-ttt-ted you ttt-to SPOON me!" She gasped defiantly, with an edge of haughty laughter.

"I said _spoon_, Bones, not fork." He said exasperatedly. He used the arm he still held hostage to maneuver her onto her side as he slowly and hesitantly pulled her into his body, allowing her time to protest. If anyone had learned not to make sudden movements in her presence, it had been him. He had seen first hand how lethal Ninja-Bones could be. "Although I am excellent at both." He whispered, contentedly, into her ear as she settled into him without protest. He was slightly alarmed, finally realizing how much she was shivering.

"I don't know-ww what-tt that-tt meee-ans." She murmured between shivers, causing her voice to sound hic-upy and juvenile. As always terms taken for granted by most people evaded her understanding, although she did note that Booth sounded thoroughly pleased with himself. Had she not been on the verge of becoming a human dreamsicle, perhaps she would have inquired as to why.

"Shhh." He shushed her and then reached over her body, pulling as much of the sleeping bag as possible up and over her. She scooted back further into him trying to free up more of the sleeping bag for him to wrap around her and he was suddenly reminded of how tall she was.

With her head tucked in under his chin, they matched at every apex. As a fairly tall guy, it was a sensation he hardly ever experienced, and he involuntarily sighed at how good it felt. Consciously he tried not to think about it, along with the un-chivalrous thoughts that were fighting to gain control of his mind.

Fifteen minutes passed between them in silence. Little by little, Bones' shivers became subdued and eventually ceased altogether.

Once it became clear that she was not in fact going to die of hypothermia, the atmosphere in the tent perceptibly changed.

Booth was fairly certain that if he weren't wrapped around her, actively leasing out his body heat, Bones would begin to freeze all over again. However, the fact that she was no longer in dire need of him put him at odds. No longer consumed by concern for her wellbeing, her intimate presence became poignantly real.

Her previously convulsing limbs gave way to alternatingly firm and soft curves that gently clung to his muscled body. He raked his mind for other things to think about.

"Bones?" He knew she wasn't asleep, her breathing wasn't slow enough.

"Yeah?" She responded, sounding much more content now that she was able to speak coherently.

"Can you talk about stuff?"

"Stuff? What stuff?"

"You know, stuff. Just ramble like you normally do about something sciencey."

"Why?"

"Because you woke me up, and its only fair for you to put me back to sleep." He gesticulated in front of her with the hand that was draped over her waist.

He didn't really feel like sleeping, instead he hoped that if she could babble about math theories or global warming for long enough then he might be able to restrain his thoughts to more gentlemanly topics.

She caught his waving hand in mid air. "Are you implying that I am boring?" She twisted her upper body around to look at him, clearly offended, her lips twisted into a pouty 'o' of disapproval.

"Of course not Bones, all the things you have to say are both interesting and exciting, in fact you _over_-stimulate my brain which in turn wears me out, thus making me sleepy." He flashed her his boyish grin, making sure to work the twinkle in his eye.

She closed her mouth in response, and returned to her position nestled beneath his chin. She couldn't tell if he was mocking her. She decided he couldn't be, all the things she talked about _were_ interesting and she too felt the complexity of certain things wear on her mental stamina, decidedly she drew in a long breath trying to decide upon a topic to discuss.­­..

* * *

AN: Thanks again for reading! Any critique is welcome! : ) xoxo, S.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Trail in the Woods with a Spork

Rating: M

Summary: Lost in the woods, bickering, rain, and a one-man tent.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones outside the bounds of my imaginary universe.

* * *

"You know," Bones began, after finally selecting a topic, "anthropologically speaking, tickling is hypothesized to serve as a bonding mechanism in the parent-offspring relationship."

Booth tried to put himself at ease. While he acknowledged that tickling was perhaps not the safest of subjects, he found comfort in the likelihood that at least half of what she was about to explain would fly right over his head.

"Bonding mechanism, eh?" He supplied to show that he was paying attention.

"Theoretically tickling can facilitate the association of touch with pleasure in infancy and early childhood. Parents who utilize this bonding mechanism may find that it generates a sense of trust; enabling the parent to do things such as treat a child for an injury even though the treatment would initially generate pain."

Booth was grateful that she had eclipsed the word pleasure with a wordy explanation of parent-child bonding.

"I tickle Parker all the time." He offered. He wasn't sure but from what he understood, this was an indication that he was a good parent.

"I'm sure he likes that." She laughed quietly. The soft vibrations migrated through her back and into his chest.

He chuckled back in response. "Well not to squash your theory Dr. Bones, but in my experience the most useful aspect of tickling is utilizing it to blackmail a child in to doing as he is told, such as taking a bath."

Brennan smiled at his response, fondly imagining Booth and Parker rolling around on the floor of his living room, small child and big child mirthfully attacking each other solely with the tips of their fingers. She hated to admit it, but Booth's clear superiority as a father appealed to the primitive part of her that still sought out a mate. Though evolutionarily speaking, it made sense for such indicators to be a sexual stimulant, she still found it absurd for a woman, such as herself, to be affected by it. She allowed the multitudes of facts to take over once again, as always keeping her biology in check.

"Did you know that there are two different types of phenomena associated with tickling?" Bones asked, somewhat rhetorically, as she continued on without allowing him time to reply. "One is called knismesis it involves soft, light movement across the epidermis, I actually find it quite pleasant. Signals in the nerve fibers associated with pain--"

"You like being tickled?" He asked, surprised. The idea of Bones enjoying to be tickled was both silly and alluring to him.

"Well not exactly. Knismesis isn't the type of tickling most people associate with tickling." She explained. "It's like this--" she pulled at the arm that was wrapped around her waist, straightening it out and taking his hand in one of hers, holding it near her chest. She ran the fingertips of her free hand softly over his forearm, so softly that there was only a whisper of contact.

Booth's whole body tensed and shuddered at the decidedly fantastic sensation. It wasn't necessarily a sexual feeling, but just like most sexual sensation he did not, under any circumstance, want it to end. His whole body tingled pleasantly with each pass of her hand.

Brennan eventually stopped, assuming her demonstration was complete.

"Hey don't stop!" He squeezed the hand that held his and shook his arm, indicating for her to continue.

"You are such a child, Booth." She smiled, rolling her eyes. "It does feel good though, doesn't it?"

"Mmmhmm," was all he could manage in response. He closed his eyes, completely content and relaxed.

She continued her delicate ministrations, spanning his biceps, below the cuff of his t-shirt and on down to his wrist. She took this opportunity to stealthily explore his muscled arms. She couldn't help but note that they were exceptionally well formed. She had guessed as much, from their prolonged hugs, from the way his shirts clung to his body, but that had been pure conjecture, this was strong, solid, and irrevocable fact, just the way she liked it.

As time wore on, it became harder for her to keep her biology in check. She was a scientist and it dawned on her that this form of ticking could be interpreted scientifically. Being able to tickle someone without eliciting a negative response was anthropologically indicative of the highest level of intimacy. She rationalized that siblings often used this form of intimacy, and that her relationship with Booth was capable of being intimate without being sexual. She did her best not to think about how adolescents used tickling, but it was almost impossible to stop her brain from reminding her that teens often used tickling as an outlet for sexual energy and expression, where more direct sexual play was the desired outcome.

"Okay, my turn." She said suddenly, startling Booth from his stupor.

"Hmph," Booth complained. He was not pleased, but he hoped that if he returned the favor perhaps he would get another turn. He released Bones' hand, and proceeded to feel his way to her arm. "Bones, you're wearing long sleeves."

"Oh." Brennan attempted to pull back her sleeve, but the cuff of her cotton t-shirt was just too tight to expose much of her arm.

"I guess it's still my turn." Booth chuckled as he offered her his arm again.

She didn't think she could handle touching him any more. Her brain buzzed, trying to think of a way to evade the situation.

"Here, you can perform knismesis on my back," she rolled away from him and on to her stomach.

"Your back?" Booth's voice wavered. He knew that her request was an innocent one, she was too oblivious to do anything on purpose.

"My Mother used to rub my back like this before bed." She hoped that if Booth was adequately good at this, she might be able to fall asleep and escape all the biological tugs she was experiencing.

Booth's hand slowly traveled down her back, stalling by toying with the hem of the soft fabric. Finally he slipped his fingers underneath, realizing that the soft fabric held nothing to her impossibly smooth skin. He held back a groan, instantly feeling guilty over how much he was enjoying this. He moved his fingers in small circles at the base of her back afraid to go any further.

"All over my back Booth," Brennan muttered, wiggling her back impatiently, "you're not moving enough."

Booth held his breath as he ventured further under her shirt, letting his small circles become big circles.

"Mmmmmmm." Brennan noisily exhaled. He proved to be very good indeed at knismesis.

Booth silently choked on his own spit, as she continued to periodically "voice" her approval. He noted that porn stars made less provocative noises. The only thing he could be grateful for, was that they were no longer spooning. The erection that had threatened his control since the start of this undercover operation, was beginning to prevail.

His fingers made their way up to each shoulder blade and to the space right below her neck. Each time he was painstakingly careful not to touch her bra. He felt more nervous now than he had felt in 10th grade when Fiona Clark had let him feel her up behind the tennis courts for the first time, and his libido and control apparently hadn't changed much since then.

Brennan wiggled once again under his fingertips, clearly annoyed that Booth was not getting the right spot.

"Wait." She arched backward moving her hands to her back, and Booth wondered for a hopeful moment whether she would just rub her own back and end his merciless torture. After a jumble of motions and adjustments on her part, Brennan relaxed back into the sleeping bag, dropping her arms back to her sides. "There that should be better."

Booth stared at her opened mouth, because she had not done anything in his service. Instead she had unhooked her modest, supportive and containing bra, somehow maneuvered the straps off her arms and thrown it towards the corner of the tent, where it was no longer modestly supporting and containing her.

Booth shut his mouth and looked down at the very attractive woman lying next to him, braless, in a very thin cotton t-shirt, expecting him to continue rubbing her back.

After a few moments she looked over her shoulder at him, confused as to why he hadn't continued. "What? What's wrong?"

Booth contemplated how he could phrase the situation, but everything sounded far to complicated. He knew that she would mock him for his so called "Puritanical modesty" or "Victorian ideals." She was in fact covered, he couldn't see anything and therefore he had no case against her.

His fingers returned to her soft skin and he had to admit that it was much easier now to run his fingers along her back...

* * *

Thanks for reading, and also thanks for all the lovely reviews, I really appreciate it! :) xoxo, S.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Trail in the Woods with a Spork

Rating: M

Summary: Lost in the woods, bickering, rain, and a one-man tent.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones outside the bounds of my imaginary universe.

* * *

Booth cursed the torture of the situation, but not even he could deny the equally thrilling and euphoric dimension to each agonizing moment. After all, various parts of his body were in shameless anticipation over the mere possibility of what might ensue.

His fingers fell into a rhythm of tracing the same path over and over again across her back. Each pass began with the exposed skin at the small of her back, directly above the waist of her jeans. From there he slowly followed the curve of her spine all the way up to the nape of her neck, pausing to languidly explore the spans of her neck, letting her pulse find the pads of his fingers before continuing. He then moved around her left shoulder, dipping along the curve of her torso until he, once again, met with the waist of her jeans. From there he retraced his path back up to her shoulder and across to repeat the motions on her right side.

Booth painstakingly kept track of each pass, hoping to occupy his thoughts with simple addition. His mind, however, seemed much more interested in registering which areas on Bones' back elicited the most earnest and contented purrs.

"I think I finally understand what they say." Brennan mumbled, between sighs.

"They? They who?" Booth asked; scanning his brain for any relevant topics she could be referring to.

"I'm not exactly sure who 'they' refers to. It was something Angela once said in passing. I thought it was nothing more than a nonsensical colloquialism that everyone refused to explain to me, but now I am confidant in asserting my full comprehension of its meaning."

"Bones," he sighed and then paused, as he often did in her company, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He patted her back in polite patience, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Hands."

He blinked. Clearly this didn't help him.

"Hands?" He stretched his long fingers out, and pressed his sizable palm against the small of her back to emphasize his question.

"You know what they say about men with big hands." She quoted, in the same sing-song-y voice Angela had used to deliver the line initially.

Booth's hand froze. His mind reeled as he tried to figure out what she could possibly mean by that. He knew for a fact that she hadn't gotten close enough to collect first hand, evidentiary support of that claim. He would have definitely noticed that. He sucked in a quick breath as he looked down at his pants. The khakis he had initially chosen for roominess and subsequent hiking comfort, failed miserably to disguise even a semi-aroused state, and Booth had passed that point a long time ago. While she had been facing the opposite direction for most of the night, he couldn't be sure that she hadn't glanced over and noticed. She was not shy, and he feared that any observations, even those pertaining to his very private anatomy, were fair game by her standards; and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

"Okay Bones, time for bed," Booth announced. He removed his hand from beneath her shirt, smoothing down the soft fabric against her back with his open palm. "It's late and I'm tired, and um we have a case to solve tomorrow—let's not forget about Paul Green." He rambled, attempting to explain his sudden retreat. He patted her on the back again; this time with a curt, informal tempo, then quickly rolled over on to his other side.

"You mean Peter Grier. The suspect. His name is Pe—"

"I got it Bones." He replied brusquely, before she could finish correcting him.

Confused, Brennan rolled on to her side to look at him, but he didn't turn to look back. Her underdeveloped social graces alerted her to a change in atmosphere, but they didn't have the capacity to provide her with insight as to the cause.

"Are you upset?" She asked, with sincere curiosity.

"No Bones, I'm just tired." He still didn't turn to respond.

Brennan was surprised by the roughness in his voice, and took it as a confirmation that he was angry about something she had said or done.

"You know what Booth? Of the two of us, you are by far the more sensitive one. Which interestingly conflicts with the popular sociocultural stereoty—"

"I am NOT sensitive!" He interjected, incensed, exasperatedly shaking a pointed index finger in the air.

She smiled inwardly, finding his reaction oddly endearing.

"That is not what I said, you are putting sentences in my mouth." She paused, intending to continue, but Booth once again interrupted her.

"Whatever, and it's 'words in my mouth' Bones, not sentences. Good night." He adjusted himself to better distribute his weight, resolute on imminent sleep.

Booth's stern tone persuaded her against protesting. Instead, she followed his lead and attempted to find a comfortable position in which to fall asleep.

Brennan felt an unpleasant chill run through her extremities and realized that Booth was no longer close enough to provide any warmth. She began to move towards him, but paused, as a sudden wave of insecurity hit her. She quickly rationalized away the emotion by reminding herself that both her and Booth were physically comfortable with one another. That was evident from various past gestures and occurrences; additionally the recent interactions in the tent only served to solidify that claim. She assumed that it was simply a facet of their "surrogate relationship," as Sweets called it.

Booth felt her body lightly press against his. She draped an arm over his waist, and he sensed her hesitation when it came to resting her hand against him. Booth knew she was remembering his earlier reaction to her wandering fingers. He took her by the wrist and pulled her arm up against his chest, subtly showing her where it was okay to put her hand.

Brennan allowed him to pull her snugly against his back. She sighed as she rested her head against the dip between his shoulder blades and wondered whether he had experienced the same sensory fulfillment when he had been the one holding her.

Booth instantly regretted pulling her arm towards him; he had inadvertently brought her fully against him. The skin on his back stood at attention as it registered every point of solid contact. He unconsciously sucked in a quick, shallow breath. The two very thin layers of cotton between them did nothing to disguise the ample fullness of her chest. Booth's subsiding erection instantly returned, this time in full force. He discreetly readjusted himself to avoid unnecessary pain. The discomfort brought on by his unresolved arousal was enough on its own.

Several minutes passed, and it occurred to Brennan that each breath against Booth's back, elicited a pleasant sensation in her breasts. She absentmindedly exaggerated the movement of her chest, eventually incorporating a slight side-to-side motion to further improve the sensation. It wasn't until she felt a familiar warmth tingling down her body, radiating from nipples, that she realized Booth's proximity had thoroughly stimulated her. The numerous indicators of Booth's superior breeding capabilities were much harder for her to ignore in such tight quarters, and she fought to subdue the need to firmly press her hips into him.

Bones' erect nipples delicately drew lines of fire along Booth's back. He tensed his body, remaining perfectly still, but all control over his imagination was gone. He was far too turned on not to indulge in illicit images of Bones sprawled, long-legged, wide-eyed and wearing absolutely nothing.

A brief wave of guilt allowed a moment of clarity to fight its way into his consciousness, and he reasoned that this might be his last ditch effort before he truly did something to embarrass himself. After all, she was innocently relying on him to keep her warm, and he was blatantly abusing those privileges by letting the circumstances reduce him to his teenage self.

"Hey Bones, why don't you roll over? I can be the big spoon." It took tremendous effort for him to finish the sentence without injecting any of the huskiness that had taken residence in his throat. It was a risky move, but he couldn't allow her to continue tantalizing him with her breasts. He resolved to keep enough space between them in the places where it was needed.

Brennan slowly eased away from him, and they both felt the reluctant tug of two magnets being pulled apart.

Booth quickly turned to resume the contact, blaming his eagerness on his concern for her warmth; but he found that she hadn't turned over as he had thought.

He clumsily hung an arm over his lap, attempting to shield his erection from site, before looking up at her. She lay on her back, her arms bent over her head, absently playing with her hair and just staring at him. His gaze traveled down her body and he shut his eyes upon reaching her chest. Booth had been aware of her breasts from the moment he met her. He had secretly dreamed about them, and he dared anyone who had ever seen them, even behind a shirt and bra, to blame him.

"Why are your eyes closed?" She asked, her voice breathy.

"I—I Just need a minute."

"Why?"

"Bones, why don't you just turn over? You're clearly cold—" he couldn't help but take a quick peek at her breasts again, easily making out her nipples, even in the shadowy tent, "—and uh, I could do without listening to your spastic shivering again." He made an attempt at his usual lighthearted tone, trying to mask his avoidance of the question.

"Is the fact that I am not wearing a bra, making you uncomfortable?" It appeared his pointed glance had not gone unnoticed by her.

Booth didn't answer; he didn't know what his appropriate response should be. He opened his eyes to gauge her expression, carefully keeping them focused on her face. She wasn't smirking at him, as he had expected, in the playful manner she usually reserved for his science faux pas and 'archaic' beliefs. Instead her expression was serious, as her eyes looked him over, inquisitively, almost calculatingly.

Brennan was surprised by what she found in Booth's eyes. He was aroused; possibly even more so than she was, it was hard to discern. She wasn't ashamed of her physical response to him; it was of course perfectly natural under the circumstances. Knowing now however, that Booth, who was usually restrained and tight-lipped when it came to talking about sex, was lying next to her, fully aroused and ashamedly fighting his every impulse, made it exceedingly difficult not to respond as she normally did in such situations. Situations in which Brennan found herself in close proximity to a man, who was both sexually attractive and sexually attracted to her, tended to result in some form of release. It was hard for her to rationalize why this time should be different, why she shouldn't seek the relief her body so desperately craved. And it _was_ a craving, looking at Booth, his eyes smoldering, his body tense, he was exactly what she wanted.

Brennan suddenly felt out of breath. She subconsciously inhaled deeply, filling her lungs to capacity.

He wasn't sure, it was extremely possible that his imagination was just playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw her back arch slightly, seeming to call attention to the subject in question. He fought the impulse to drop his gaze.

Brennan restrained herself from licking her lips as she noticed him shift uncomfortably in response to her chest raising intake of air.

His eyes wavered, dipping just below her chin before he decided to once again close them.

Had he been any other man, she would have been upset or annoyed by his attempt to avoid engaging her sexually, but this was Booth. She knew Booth better than anyone. He was sexually attracted to her, and, apart from isolated moments of irrational self doubt, she had been aware of this for quite awhile; and after tonight, she didn't think she could ever doubt his attraction to her. Brennan knew he was holding back because of their work situation. They were after all professionals, she was well aware of that. Somehow though, this moment in the woods, away from Washington D.C. and all their obligations, away from their colleagues and from modern technology, it just seemed like the rules didn't apply here.

Her thoughts suddenly felt irrational and she wondered if her altered brain chemistry was inhibiting her ability to make decisions. She retraced her reasoning trying to pin it to science in order to solidify her hypothesis. She inwardly smiled after a few turns of her light speed rationalization. Not only had she found a way to back up her thinking, she had by serendipity, finally figured out why people used the term chemistry as a synonym for mutual sexual attraction. It was clear to her that both Booth and herself were slow yet powerful reactants in a chemical equation, their usual surroundings and responsibilities acted as the inhibitors, slowing down the inevitable chemical reaction. This tent however, was the catalyst of their equation, and in the absence of the usual inhibitors, it was working at full capacity.

"Um, no. Not exactly. I mean, I--um--uh--Listen, it's not like I haven't seen them before." He forced his eyes open as he finally answered, starting out flustered, but finding his voice in the end. He impatiently raised his arm, twisting the palm of his hand upward in a 'matter of fact' gesture, propping his head up with the bent elbow of his other arm.

"What?" She asked, speaking hardly above a whisper. She was almost certain that he had never seen her breasts, but her face flushed at the mere mention of it.

Booth registered her reaction and rewound his thoughts, cringing when he realized what his words had implied.

"I meant that I have seen them--I mean not THEM--but I have seen many other ones like them--well not exactly like them--but maybe similar ones, many times before." He stumbled painfully over his words, holding up his palm again in apology for his previous statement.

When he met her gaze again, she was still looking at him expectantly and he felt the need to elaborate. "Your mom has them, your grandmother has them, your Sunday school teacher has them, you know?"

"I don't know what that means." And she didn't, as she continued to question him with her eyes.

"It means half the planet has them, so it's not really a big deal."

"Actually, less than half the planet has breasts, as a result of countries like China and parts of India. Does that make you feel more comfortable?"

He blinked at her question, not sure what she as asking.

"Um, no, I guess I wish there was an equal number of them compared to, you know, guys." He answered uncertainly.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"No, what I meant to inquire was whether your emphasis on their commonality among the worlds populace, reduces your natural, individual male affinity for breasts?" She clarified, in all seriousness.

He raised his hand again, about to dismiss her question with a quick affirmation and flick of his wrist. Instead his hand stood suspended, as he rethought his response. He couldn't lie about this, it would be blatant and unbelievable. He cringed, fisting his hand.

"No. Not at all." He replied candidly.

"That's perfectly normal for a heterosexual male." She conceded, nodding absentmindedly towards him. Her voice trailed off as she allowed her eyes to trail down his body. With his arm now occupied with its usual gesticulatory duties, she was finally able to assess, in actuality, how stimulated he was, and her observation didn't disappoint.

"Thanks, Bones." Although nothing in his voice suggested he was grateful. When he looked back at her, he realized the unfortunate direction of her gaze. With a sharp in take of breath, he quickly returned his arm to its position in front of his lap.

"Can we talk about something else?" He asked, more flustered than ever.

"What would you like to talk about?" She asked in low voice that sped up his heart rate even more.

"I don't know Bones, what about earthworms?" He had no idea where that came from.

She squinted at him both surprised and amused.

"Booth, earthworms are asexual."

"Perfect. Continue." He replied upbeat for once, nodding his head for her to go on.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading again! I hope I'm not drawing this out too long. Um, I swear I'm trying to get to the juicier parts, but B&B are fighting against me! I had to post the CH because it was getting too long, I guess they just like to torture themselves!

: ) xoxo, S.


End file.
